


i’m the worst idea you’ve ever had

by vartamin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bad Snape, Crack, Desi Harry Potter, Fluff and Humor, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Potions Accident, Semi-Unrequited Feelings (Maybe), Swearing, theyre teenagers cmon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23341051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vartamin/pseuds/vartamin
Summary: Someone slips something into Potter’s potion, or many things, and now Draco of all people has to deal with the consequences – how fun.|:)|“What are you looking at?” Draco sneers, but Harry doesn’t stop staring, lips lifting into a smile instead. It’s so warm that Draco feels like he’s been kicked in the chest, and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over it to soothe the wound.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	i’m the worst idea you’ve ever had

**Author's Note:**

> Draco, most definitely: it’s not my fault my pussy pops severely and yours don’t 
> 
> Alternate title: Snobby Rich Boy Gets Pounded By Insecurities He Is Not Willing To Deal With And Also He Is Gay
> 
> Alternate alternate title: Two Rivals Sittin Together In Potions Class But They’re Not Gay!!!

Another potions class, another hour forced into close quarters with gryffindor’s golden boy. He’d swear Snape was trying to torture him if the man wasn’t quite obviously trying to torture Potter instead.

Draco’d be flattered, if he wasn’t fuming. 

The first day they’d been assigned seats they’d snapped at each other so much that there was a noticeable spring in the professor’s step. Draco had held his tongue after that just out of spite. Or had tried to, at least. It wasn’t his fault Potter was so easy to make fun of. 

But none of that matters in the situation at hand. Because Draco’s seen a girl slip lilyrum into Potter’s brew, seen her stir it counter-clockwise 3 times while his back was turned. He watches the girl lean over Potter's cauldron as his potion turns a violent, bubbling shade of pink. He sees the rose petals fall from her hand into the solution, and he’s not an idiot. The cardiac rhythm potion is eerily similar to a love potion, anyone who knows a thing at all about potions would agree. 

Potter’s face reddens as he breathes it in with a blush that travels from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, but he forcibly keeps his head down even when the girl croons to get him to look up around the room. 

Draco knows what’s happening. 

“You know, if you’re so desperate for Potter’s dick that you’d poison him for it, you might want to do it when there isn’t a room full of witnesses.” He drawls across the shared table. Words sharpened like a blade and cutting sharp. 

He must have startled the boy, because then Harry is looking at him and something is wrong. He’s used to Harry staring at him, his eyes have always followed him in suspicion, trying to figure out his next prank, his next dastardly move, but this is different. His pupils are blown wide and the blush on his face deepens to a scarlet on his dark skin. 

He could practically  _ see _ the hearts ballooning in his eyes.

Draco feels sick. He’s made a mistake, a  _ huge _ mistake, except he doesn’t make mistakes, so it’s obviously poor Potter’s fault. 

“What are you looking at?” He sneers, but Harry doesn’t stop staring, lips lifting into a smile instead. It’s so warm that Draco feels like he’s been kicked in the chest, and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over it to soothe the wound. 

Harry puts his elbow on the table like the mannerless sloth he is, and leans his head onto his hand, blinking owlishly. 

“You’re creeping me out, Potter.” Draco says, a little panicked and definitely not prepared to deal with whatever is happening right now. “ _ Say _ something you dim witted freak.”

“What do you want me to say?” The chosen one asks with a softly lilting voice, rosy around the edges like he’s pilfered from Dumbledore’s secret stash of wine. 

He  _ knows  _ it exists. They  _ all _ do. There’s no way that man gets through the day without the sweet release of fermented berries on his tongue. Not with all the horrible decisions he’s made. 

The girl who poisoned Potter’s potion laughs a loud and mean thing, eyes crinkling in mirth. Her slytherin badge is as prominent on her chest as the blush on Harry’s cheeks. 

Draco wasn’t necessarily…  _ popular _ with his House crowd since he’d bought his way onto the quidditch team and subsequently lost them the House Cup to Potter anyways. Years ago, maybe, but they wouldn’t be slytherin if they didn’t hold a grudge. 

Oh, and also just the fact that overall he was a bit of a prat, that too. So this is probably as funny to his fellow housemate as it would be if it were another idiot Gryffindor facing the torture of Potter’s affections instead. He bites the inside of his cheek in irritation, canines catching on the skin. 

_ It’s not his fault he was rich and could get what he wanted. _ They should try and beat Harry Potter to the snitch, he was an  _ animal _ on a broom. He wanted that thing so bad he’d quite literally swallowed it the first time he could. Fucking snitch magnet Potter. 

And as for the prattish-ness, well…

“Oh,  _ no _ you don’t.” Draco snaps, eyes thinning into a deadly glare. The nameless slytherin slinks back to her spot behind them to watch the chaos unfold from a safe distance and he turns his glare onto her full force. It must not be effective because she just winks and sticks her tongue out at him. He’s tempted to call over to the teacher, but that would mean giving Snape the satisfaction of getting to ridicule Potter, and he’s just not feeling like anyone else has that right at the moment. Not when his own dignity is on the line. 

“Don’t what?” Potter asks. Still blushing, still soft, still stupid. Potter starts tracing slow circles with his fingers onto the desk as he looks at him beneath his lashes shyly, and Draco is pretty sure the gulp he makes is audible to the entire room. 

_ Where were Potter’s idiot, brazen friends when he needed them? _

Granger, the only one of them with any brain power, though he loathed to admit it, was busy smacking the Weasley on the back of his head for being an idiot halfway across the room, as expected. 

“ _ That. _ ” Draco tries again, words sticking strangely to the back of his throat. “Being  _ nice  _ to me.”

Potter’s face falls into a pout. “What?” He asks again, more forceful this time. Irritation flits across his face so fast Draco would have missed it had he been able to blink. ”How else will you know I love you?” He says with determination blazing in that signature Gryffindor fashion. 

“No, you don’t.” Draco rolls his eyes, this situation was grating at already thin nerves. “You were poisoned.”

“I don’t feel poisoned.” Harry says, smiling for good measure. “I feel great. I feel like I’m in love with you.”

“Look, just go to Madame Pomfrey’s and you’ll see that this was all just your worst nightmare come to life and everything will be back to normal.” He says blandly with a dramatic shake of his hands to prove his point. 

“No.” Potter says stubbornly, and Draco can almost feel his eyes pop out of his head from rolling them so hard. “You’re not so bad, and if this is what being poisoned is like, then I think it’s okay.” Harry shrugs like he’s remarking on the weather. 

_ ‘Oh, hello, lovely day out innit? I just got stabbed so I’m about to find a dramatic alley to lay down and die in. Jolly good day, sir’ _

Bloody idiot, careless, brave Potter with absolutely no sense of self preservation. 

“You’re mad.” Draco whispers softly. “You’re bloody fucking mad.”

“Mad for you.” Harry says, like the cheesy, soft asshole he really is inside. 

Something in Draco’s stomach twists uncomfortably and he scoffs, eyes thinning into another glare. Potter has always been  _ too _ good at turning his words back at him. 

The tender whispers of a wish sit deep in Draco’s stomach, fluttering tendriled fingers around his intestines. Draco wants to feel like a good person, like he can be loved like a good person can. 

He can’t help but hope deep inside that it’s not just the potion talking, even if it _ is _ coming from stinking Harry  _ fucking _ Potter. It hurts. 

Draco physically digests the emotion, crushing it between his teeth, and swallows. 

“Tsk.” He sounds, and tries to take control of the situation. “Like I’d be interested in someone as sloppy as you, Potter. Try wearing clothes that fit and brushing your hair more than once in a blue moon,  _ then _ we’ll talk.”

Potter blinks and raises a hand to the messy, dark hair curling around his head like a halo, pulling at a strand. He seems oddly subdued, disappointed, downright  _ upset _ . 

Draco is flabbergasted. 

Potter bites his lip and frowns, determination overtaking his features once again. He sits up straight in his seat and turns fully towards Draco, staring at him intently. 

_ Just  _ how  _ does that boy do it? _ Draco asks himself. Potter takes everything in stride. He just… bounces back immediately from every verbal punch Draco has ever thrown,  _ could _ ever throw. He envies him – that strength of character, of conviction. Draco grits his teeth. 

Harry suddenly raises a hand to Draco’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone and curling his other fingers gently around Draco’s ear. 

Draco can’t remember the last time someone other than his mother held him like this, like he’s delicate, fragile and important. He doesn’t think anyone  _ ever _ has. Narcissa Malfoy might be a loving mother, but she is not an affectionate one – even she would not dare revel in such affections but on rare occasions. 

Draco’s eyes close on impulse, leaning his face just slightly into the touch. He likes it more than he thought he would, and scorns himself for it. 

“ _ Draco… _ ” 

He hears his name whispered in  _ that _ tone of voice, from  _ that _ mouth, way closer than before, and suddenly his eyes shoot wide open, heart racing and jumping from out behind his ribs.

_ Holy shit… Fuck.  _

Draco chokes and shoots up to his feet so fast that he’s lightheaded even as he starts to speak. 

“Snape!” He yells. “Come collect this stupid idiot and take him to the hospital wing or I swear to  _ Merlin _ I will  _ curse _ whatever sad lineage you manage to spawn for the next  _ seven generations. _ ”

Professor Snape turns around from where he was nastily bullying poor Longbottom with his mouth already curved in a condescending smirk, the only thing that passes for a smile on him, and an evil glint in his eye. Draco’s eye twitches but he stands his ground. This situation has gotten entirely out of his control. 

“If you’re so concerned about Mr. Potter’s health, Mr. Malfoy,” he drawls, voice sticky and oozing, “why don’t you take him yourself?”

Draco is  _ flabbergasted _ once more. 

“Ap - ah - uh,” he stutters. “Like I fucking care about him!” He shouts. 

A loud bang of echoes around the potions classroom and interrupts the pathetic squawking noise his mouth was making like a parrot’s wailing squeak. 

“We’ll take him!” Hermione cries, palms curled against her desk and eyes scared, glancing between Draco and Harry worriedly. 

Snape waves an unmanicured hand as if to brag to the world that he can’t find it within himself to take the time out of his day to perform basic personal hygiene. 

“Trying to skip class, Miss Granger? 10 points from Gryffindor.” He says without turning around, continuing to stare Draco down. 

“If you don’t want to take him, Mr. Malfoy, then obviously there’s no issue, is there?”

Draco will have him  _ fired _ . He will have him  _ strung up  _ from the ceiling dangling from his toenails until he begs for mercy, and then he will have him  _ fired.  _

Draco grabs Harry’s arm and roughly pulls him into a standing position from where he had still been sitting, staring dreamily at Draco with his dark skin flushed a brilliant, firecracker red. 

_ If you want something done right, you do it yourself _ , his mother had always told him. 

Harry’s feet scramble against the ground at the sudden pull and the universe must hate him because Potter takes advantage of it. Leaning his weight on Draco’s shoulder, practically draped across him like an eel slithering over a sponge. 

Potter’s collarbone hits his shoulder ( _damn their height difference)_ and his face is close – _too_ close – _way_ too close.

Draco ignores it, that and the heat spreading on his cheeks, he ignores it all. Tucks the feeling of Potter’s breath on his neck and the shivers it sends down his spine into a chest in his mind even the strongest of  _ occlumens _ would never find. He has many memories in these boxes – things he never dares to speak of – and this will be one of them.

“Fuck you.” Draco says to Snape, sporting his signature sneer and tugging Harry towards the doorway by his wrist. 

Snape says nothing but raises a thinning eyebrow and crosses his arms, tapping an impatient finger rhythmically on his forearm. 

“I-I’m fine, Malfoy, really-“ Harry tries to protest. 

“Oh, fuck you too!” Draco glares at him, and then walks backwards to the door to glare at Professor Snape the entire way out. 

Draco drags Harry along and stomps his way down the hall. Everyone else has to be in class at this time, so he is free to be as petulant as he likes,  _ thank you very much _ . 

Eventually, Harry stops stumbling behind him, dragged along by Draco’s hurried pace, and catches up. He slips his hand into Draco’s and practically skips his way down the hall, a stupid smile donning his stupid face. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Draco questions, flexing his fingers in Potter’s grip to rid himself of it, but Harry holds fast. 

“Holding your hand.” 

“I see, I must repeat myself. What the bloody  _ fuck _ do you  _ think _ you are doing?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow at him and, instead of answering, raises their joined hands up to press his lips to their entwined fingers. Harry’s lips brush his knuckles in a kiss that’s charming and gentle and infinitely softer than Draco could ever want, than he  _ deserves _ . 

His face flushes red from his neck to the roots of his hair. Blood must be rushing to his head from all the stupidity. 

Draco tears his hand from Potter’s grasp with great difficulty, and refuses to feel even a  _ smidgen _ of guilt at the pout Potter pulls when he does. 

Draco casts quick, furtive glances around them to the empty hallways usually so full of students that one could easily get turned around in, swept away by the currents of the crowd. He leans in close, pushing up on his toes to get in Potter’s face and speaks from behind us teeth. 

“ _ Behave _ ,” he says, “or do you  _ want _ someone to fucking see you like this?” 

Harry stops walking, and Draco stops too, his face twisting in contemplation. It’s a good look on him, but most things are, both serious and silly at the same time. 

Eventually, Harry shrugs, broad shoulders confident and one of his signature dopey, charming smirks on his face – the kind that has all the new first years making dreamy faces at him, the kind that Draco just can’t  _ stand _ , one that curls at his insides like a hot coil. 

He frowns harder, He feels his face flushing of its own accord, a bright, bursting red. 

Harry speaks, finally, and his voice is liquid gold. Draco wonders how good it feels, coming up his throat like that, he wonders how a voice that smooth tastes on the ridges of his pearly white teeth. 

“Maybe I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> so this is what I’ve been writing for shits, giggles and stress relief while I procrastinate on all my 36 other wips and also literally everything else in my life 😎
> 
> Do not expect much from this, i am only having little fun....... as a treat. 
> 
> I’ve never read a Harry Potter in my life why would you accuse me of something so heinous :///


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